Chapter 5 – Chap 5

Karina is beginning to smell. It’s been two days since she chased me into the woods. Two days since I had to fight for my life and subsequently end hers. Two days since the Lullaby- or I suppose I should rather say, “She,” last spoke to me in some airy, unspoken language and left me here on the hard Earth awaiting my next instructions. The sounds of the forest, and the ocean in the distance has all returned, but my ethereal compass has not. I can’t sense Her anywhere.

It’s comical to me. The absence of the unknown voice whispering enigmatic commandments in my ear is more worrisome than the body no more than ten feet to my side. I am a murderer. It was self-defense, without a shadow of a doubt, I did not want to do what I did, but it still doesn’t change the fact that the air in Karina’s lungs has ceased, her blood has run cold, and her eyes have gone dark.

This woman hated me with such vigor. I had taken something from her, taken her place. I had usurped her from some vague destiny she desired so desperately, and it was at my husband’s behest. Tam brought this fate upon me, upon both of us. His actions killed Karina and laid me here in the dirt with a bloody shoulder and a wound I’m sure is beginning to turn sour. I understand Karina’s anger. I am at the mercy of someone else’s will, someone else’s plan for my being, and I do not like it. Not one fucking bit.

Laughter. My ears perk up.

I can hear someone approaching slowly, a hundred yards away, maybe less. I want to stay here. I still haven’t heard Her voice, but if I’m found next to Karina, my life is over, and I still very much need answers or else all this is for nothing.

I go to stand. I prop myself up on my elbows and immediately let out a yelp. I rip off the sleeve of my shirt and look at my bruised and veined shoulder. I was right. An infection is slowly starting to spread. Something foreign is working its way through my body and attempting to break me down and change me. I need antibiotics.

More laughter and chatter- closer this time. Medicine will have to wait.

I get to my feet and wobble like a newborn deer as I’m overcome with a rush of vertigo. I begin walking and try to not faint. I’m slow at first. My knees and joints still feel phantomly attached to my resting place by the stream, but I soon regain my footing and build up a pace. I clutch my shoulder and hurry away from this spot of sacrilege.

—

I run. I whisper to myself-

HARITA: Come on. Talk to me. Talk…

But nothing. She’s still silent. It makes me angry. To bring me this far and then vanish without a trace. I look up and angrily mutter to the sky-

HARITA: God damnit, fucking talk to me!

SLIP!

I stumble over a rock and fall to the ground. I spin and begin to tumble down a slope. My shoulder aches with white hot pain with each cycle as I roll. After what seems like a never-ending fall, my momentum finally slows, and my body hits a muddy clearing with a thud. I moan and groan. I don’t want to draw any more attention to myself, but my body has no choice but to voice its discontent. I sit up. I brush the small bits of twigs from my hair and wipe the gravel from my wounds. I am tired. So very tired. I want to keep going, but I am at my breaking point. One last plea slithers out from between my lips-

HARITA: Please…

Wind. A small gust, but She’s here. I can feel it! I can feel Her again.

THE LULLABY: Ahead.

She retreats into the ether.

Although brief, her presence is palpable. I crane my neck and peer at the landscape ahead of me: Trees, so many of them, thin and uniform like they are all fun house reflections of each other. I scan the area slowly; What am I looking for… come on… come on…

There!

In the middle of the trees, quietly and obscurely, sits a small angular structure. I rise with Her newly gifted vitality and see what hurdle She has in store for me next.

—

It’s a box. A concrete shelter the size of a modest storage shed.

I walk around to examine the back and discover a door. The handle is round and in the shape of a sunburst, like the kind you see on bank vaults in cheesy heist movies. I crank it. It’s heavy, but it turns with relative ease. I hear the mechanisms inside begin to clunk. After three good spins, the door unlatches from its hinges and I push it open.

Stairs, narrow and concrete, are at my feet, and they work their way in spiral fashion to somewhere deep below the Earth. To the belly of the island. I take a step and begin descending into the cavernous stomach. I hope that I am not food.

—

I reach the bottom of the stairs. I am far below the surface now. I’m shocked that I have descended this far. I feel like at some point I should have entered the murky depths of the Atlantic to be greeted by an array of jellyfish, squid, and bottom feeders, but the only thing in my path is another door, less intricate than the first, but still heavy and with three large titanium bolts along the edge. These locks, however, are not secured, instead they are open and so is the door.

I hear the faintest bit of music coming from the other side- Jazz? Or swing maybe? It’s old timey and fun. I cautiously glance around the edge of the door and see what setting this soundtrack is playing to…

The room before me is cavernous and sparsely furnished. There’s a bed, a desk, some non perishables on a shelf, a record player (the source of the music) and a few cans of what looks to be paint scattered all across the floor. Someone was down here recently. A large rectangular tarp covers something on the far wall. In this room of earnestness, its mystery is off putting. I go to pull off the covering when suddenly from behind me, I hear-

MAN’S VOICE: You made a mess of the surly one, didn’t you?

I jump to the voice. A balding man in piant smeared clothing stands holding, a bouquet of flowers. He’s not angry that I’m here trespassing. He’s not especially delighted either. He just stands, assured and expecting. He’s been waiting for me. He looks to the corner of the room and speaks to no one and nothing.

MAN: She’s early. Early, early.

HARITA: Early for what?

To me-

MAN: The Arduous Trek

HARITA: What is that? What does that mean?

His glance goes back to the corner of the room.

MAN: I told them. I told them once. I told them twice. It was him who wanted this. Him, the husband-

Another turn in Tam’s labyrinth.

HARITA: Sir?

I grab his attention.

HARITA: What is this place?

MAN: Bomb shelter. Cold War. No Russian can get to us down here, Comrade…. Are you the wife?

I nod cautiously. He acknowledges this and begins going about his chores. He cuts the ends off the flowers and places the stems into a vase.

MAN: “Anoint her. Bless her. Prepare her.” She’s early. She’s so early. It was supposed to be the woman in black. She was too sour. Nope, nope, nope. The husband wanted her. He wanted the wife.

“The woman in black,” “the surly one;” He must be talking about Karina.

HARITA: What was Karina supposed to do? What did I replace her for?

MAN: So many questions. Been easier to just use the other one, right?

He lets out a piggish chortle.

MAN: So many questions this one, the wife, has.

I get angry at his Yoda-like speak. I slam my hand on the table where he’s arranging the flowers and the vase falls over. The bald man looks at me with trepidation.

MAN: This one is surly too. Always the younger ones, right?

I let his question linger. I look to the corner then back at him.

HARITA: Who are you?

JOAQUIN: My name is Joaquin.

HARITA: Joaquin. Please, tell me what I’m doing here. You know my husband, Tam, right?

Joaquin nods.

HARITA: Why did he bring me to Aleister?

Joaquin sets the vase back up right and cups a handful of water from the table. He holds it up and stares deeply into the iridescent shapes, swirling about in his palm.

JOAQUIN: She’s beneath the surface. It’s calm there. Quiet. She likes it down there. From the bottom she feasts on our tears and soothes our hearts… he wanted you to meet Her. Thought you too would, what are the kids saying? Jive.

HARITA: Who’s She? What’s Mother?

His snaps his head back towards the corner of the room as his handful of water goes flying everywhere.

JOAQUIN: I wasn’t going to tell her yet! I’m not stupid!

Back to me.

JOAQUIN: Sorry; my husband. You know how they can be. Follow, follow…

He wipes his hands dry and beckons me across the room back to the tarp.

JOAQUIN: Help please…

I help him pull down the tarp and as it falls, I’m overcome with color. Pinks, oranges, purples, airy blues; It’ a mural. One created of the most whimsical, fairy like colors I have ever seen. Woven into the streaks of color, in faint white paint I can make out markings, similar to the ones on my arm, similar to the ones on the bed in Little Moe’s apartment. There’s five lines of text from what I can see. Joaquin lets me marvel at the beauty for a moment, before he chimes in.

JOAQUIN: You like? I painted it. Many times. Each time I finish. I start again. New design, new colors. He gives me a hard time. So hard. Just sits in the corner and judges like that. Always my biggest critic. Worse than The Times.

HARITA: These markings, the language-

JOAQUIN: Old. Very old. Older than you. Older than me… Would you like to know the title?

I nod my head.

JOAQUIN: “The Five Acts of Mélange.”

He points to the first line and begins to summarize:

JOAQUIN: The Summoning. When a soul calls out to Her and she talks back from below.

The second-

JOAQUIN: The Willful Sacrifice. Nothing can be given without taking something away. That’s the law. Rules are important.

The third and fourth-

JOAQUIN: The Tethering. When we bind ourselves to the unknown. The Branding of Names: When we take on Her mark.

He goes down to the last line.

HARITA: And this one?

JOAQUIN: Last step. Final step. Big one, most difficult.

HARITA: What’s the final step, Joaquin?

JOAQUIN: The Arduous Trek.

HARITA: What happens in it?

Joaquin goes silent. He mulls over how to explain this one. It has more gravity than the others…

JOAQUIN: You face it. All of it.

I know what the next step entails. I know what woeful mind field in my past I’ll have to trek through. There’s only one thing I must face. I shudder. This will break me. I know it.

I begin to shake. Joaquin snaps at his counterpart in the corner again.

JOAQUIN: No laughing! She needs to focus…. Wife; there’s no rush. You don’t need to journey now, you can stay. You can paint with me a bit. I used to paint with the surly one. I can paint with you too-

HARITA: No. I’m ready. This last step… Will I get to see Tam after? Will I get to meet Her?

JOAQUIN: Yes.

HARITA: Then let’s do it. Now.

A look of pity comes over Joaquin’s face as he realizes my determination.

JOAQUIN: Very well. Very well. She’s early, but she says she’s ready. Don’t tell her we didn’t warn her.

Joaquin goes to the record player and changes the tune. He picks something soothing. A ballad. A woman sings longingly-

“I fell into the sea when you said you’d belong to me. I stumbled from the sky when you look looked into my eyes…”

JOAQUIN: Bed please.

Joaquin motions to the small bed in the corner. I do as he says, and I lay down. He pulls up a chair and smooths my hand.

JOAQUIN: Close eyes. Listen. Don’t worry. We’ll be right here…

I’m afraid to venture further into darkness when I’m already this far away from the sun. This is what I asked for though. This is what I want. The Arduous Trek. I’m ready to take it. I let my lids fall heavy and I listen to the music.

“I grew a pair of wings when you promised me everything. I smiled ear to ear when you wiped away my tears…”

Joaquin continues to stroke my hand. It’s rough and calloused. He is a man than has known hardship. I’m assuming he is also a man that has known sadness. Karina said as much. Aleister, the Teardrop, is meant for people like him. People like me. Our sadness has consumed us, and we have been exiled here. Joaquin has been driven mad by his loss. I’m assuming the ghost in the corner has something to do with it, and I have been driven to do other things. Neither of us are wrong or right. We’re just broken.

“Oh, what a dream it’s been to know a gem like you…”

The woman’s song is so happy. She has found love. Respite. I wonder if I will ever feel such things again. If I will ever be at peace? I wonder what will happen to me now. How this next “Act” will further my story and lead me to the end? I begin to wonder if there even is an end at this point. Even if that’s not the case, it doesn’t change the fact that I must deal with one last spirit before I get the answers I’m seeking. One last ghost that lives inside the hole in my heart. Georgie, I must-

CLUNK. CLUNK. CLUNK. The door.

I open my eyes, but only see black. The room is dark.

HARITA: Joaquin?

No response.

I didn’t feel him go. I didn’t hear him leave. I rush up and stumble to where my memory placed the door. I feel for the handle. I find it and give it a squeeze, but it has been locked. I pound.

HARITA: Joaquin! Joaquin! Let me out gaddamnit! LET ME OUT!

No reply. I am trapped.

I slump to the floor and begin sweat. I can almost feel the oxygen leaving the room with each breath but instead of cardon dioxide, I’m just filtering the air with fear. It’s building up around me, making a cloud. I can’t breathe. I can’t think. I have been sealed in a metal coffin, miles below the sea. I would ask for help, but not even She can hear me all the way down here. No, I am truly alone. I will perish down here in darkness.

The song on the record player finishes-

“My sweet boy, for you I’d truly die. But we’ll never say goodbye, my sweet, sweet, boy.”

My sweet boy. My Georgie. This is my punishment. I deserve it. I deserve it. I deserve it. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. My sweet, sweet, boy.